


Everything Stays

by InfernalPume



Category: Leviathan - Scott Westerfeld
Genre: Angst, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Kids being dumb, M/M, More angst, Other, Post-Canon, heavily implied, moping, ocs out the WAZOO
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 07:26:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9711005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InfernalPume/pseuds/InfernalPume
Summary: "Everything stays, right where you left it.Everything stays, but its still changing.Ever so slightly, daily and nightly,In little ways, everything stays."Deryn and Alek end their romantic relationship.





	

In hindsight, it did seem a bit inevitable.

 

Boffin training to beef her credentials, burying the Dylan persona, being forced to parade about as Dr. Barlow’s protégée, Deryn wasn’t stupid. She always knew the Lady Boffin was carving her into a chess piece, but hadn’t realized to what extent. Upon reading the word _Mazikeen_ at the bottom of the top-secret letter however, Deryn realized that maybe she was a bit more then a pawn.

 

From there on it all fell into place. She read the names of the other young men being offered the same position, coincidentally the henchmen of Dr. Barlow’s rivals within the society, and knew immediately that this was the plan from the very start. Midshipman Dylan Sharp might have been annoyed that her mentor hadn’t been upfront with her about it, but Deryn Sharp understood that she _couldn’t_ know until the last moment in case she failed to fit the bill. Deryn _had_ to jump through all those hoops while Alek was greased to a comfortable Director’s position, she had to prove that she didn’t mind elbowing her way to her own merit. If she didn’t, there would be no way she’d survive working a man’s job in a man’s world.

 

But Deryn had prevailed, and now she was shaking the hand of the _Mazikeen_ ’s captain whilst everyone else present tried very hard not to smirk. It was somewhat annoying how none of her new superiors thought her any more then a pet airgirl, but it occurred to Deryn that is might just be the song and dance that she missed from that first day in the air service. Deryn hadn’t joined in a conventional manner, for all she knew it was tradition to try and intimidate the newbies by making them seem small and amusing. Maybe all these pleasantries were normal for a new midshipman, or whatever the word was for a promising young airman on a non-military airship, and Deryn being female was just an added novelty to the whole affair.

 

And that was the word for it Deryn supposed, _novelty._ The Captain’s eyes sparkled with amusement and Deryn just knew he was composing his speech for the press in his mind. This was the sort of thing that sold papers, stole the _Mazikeen_ more of the spotlight. The ship itself wasn’t anything too grand or impressive, but since it didn’t belong to the Royal Air Service it was commissioned entirely on fundraising. Because the admiralty had no authority there was reason for a girl _not_ to serve aboard, which added to the sensation. It was just good luck that the only girl for the job _happened_ to be the assistant of the Lady Boffin who _happened_ to be the granddaughter of Charles Darwin himself, more headlines for an airship that relied on novelty just as much as it did hydrogen.

 

Everything was just so barking _convenient,_ wasn’t it?

 

By the end of the meeting, Deryn learned that the word for her rank was ‘Cadet’ when the captain managed to call her ‘Cadet Deryn Sharp’ with a straight face. Resolve broke for one of his officers however, who chortled before someone elbowed his ribs. Deryn managed to catch the man’s eye and gave a knowing grin. Getting offended would only make them laugh harder when her back was turned, while laughing _with_ them would earn a level of comradery she would need to keep from being a pet airgirl.

 

Deryn saluted, awkward in her skirts but more graceful then the officers had likely expected from her, and the meeting was done. Three months until the _Mazikeen_ began its first voyage, three months of interviews and preparations. It was a bit like the advertising for Mr. Tesla’s _Goliath,_ except now Deryn’s turn to be photographed and sit pretty at parties instead of Alek.

 

“I thought you did well,” the ex-prince in question told her as he read the article, “At least you aren’t being filmed. You have time to prepare for every photograph.”

 

“Aye, that’s something I suppose,” Deryn mumbled, “We can thank old Darwin for that much.”

 

Moving pictures hadn’t completely caught on in London yet, but Deryn supposed it was only a matter of time. When the _Leviathan_ had touched down in Wormwood scrubs all those years ago there had been cameras, even though there were only a handful of theaters in all of Britain that had the equipment to show newsreels. Clanker contraptions and Fabs were synchronizing all over the globe, but you could hardly expect the birthplace of Darwinism to have camera platforms lumbering about.

 

Alek looked back down at the photograph of Deryn in her new uniform. It was just the same as any officers, but with a ridiculous calf-length pencil skirt that you couldn’t run in let alone climb a ratline. But that was alright, she could always knick a pair of trousers if she really needed to.

 

“It’s an odd mix,” He admitted after a while, “I’m used to seeing you in uniform and in girl’s clothes separately, but not at the same time.”

 

Deryn made to snatch the paper away, but he kept it out of reach.

 

“That isn’t to say it’s a bad picture,” he said sheepishly, “I might want to save it.”

 

“Are you now?” Deryn asked with a cocked eyebrow, “Going to put it in a watch then?”

 

“Perhaps,” Alek said, tilting his head, “Though I’d hate to leave it at a tennis court.”

 

This caused Deryn to laugh, “Oh aye, can’t let anyone know you fancy the mad airgirl!”

 

Alek rolled his eyes.

 

“Of course not, I just don’t want to lose it _anywhere,_ seeing how its all I’ll see of you for some time.”

 

Deryn opened her mouth to say something about sappy and overly sentimental princes in retort, before realizing he had a point. In all the excitement of being in the air again, apprehension for the challenges ahead, and joy that _finally_ she could do what she loved and be herself, she had forgotten that Alek was going to be left behind.

 

Something tightened in the back of her throat, before she stubbornly swallowed it. She was an adult now, not the same lovesick lassie that stepped off the _Leviathan_ at fifteen. Sometimes adults found themselves in positions of change, and when those times came they acted rationally and sensibly.

 

“Aye, there is that,” she admitted, wondering if she should get one of those locket watches herself.

 

There was a silence then, one that Alek didn’t seem to notice as he flipped through the paper for more images of the airship. Deryn _wanted_ to talk about it, but felt a bit daft only bringing it up now. All she could do was stare at his hands, trying to think of how to start.

 

“What are you working up the courage to say, Deryn?” Alek asked without even looking up.

 

Even as she huffed out a sigh Deryn couldn’t help but smile.

 

“That we’re going to be apart again,” She said “And I’m a _dumkopf_ because I only just now realized.”

 

“Does that bother you?” Alek asked.

 

“Does it bother _you?”_ Deryn asked with a frown.

 

Alek’s hand paused in flipping to the other side of the newspaper, and his eyes glanced up to meet hers. Whatever he was looking for in her expression he found, and continued reading.

 

“No.”

 

Again Deryn’s throat tightened. She wasn’t sure why but that was not what she wanted to hear. But no sense in telling him that, considering she didn’t know what she _did_ want to hear either.

 

“Aye, that’s good then.” She said, because it was true enough.

 

It would only make things trickier if Deryn had to worry about Alek moping while she’s supposed to be fighting her way to the top of the _Mazikeen’s_ hierarchy. Competing with the other boys had been hard enough back when she was one of them, now they knew she was a girl there was no energy to be wasted on faraway lovers no matter how princely.

 

And yet... wasn’t he even a _little_ put out?

 

It wasn’t like she expected him to cry and beg her to stay or anything but he didn’t seem bothered at all. Now she thought about it, he’d been acting a bit distant lately, ever since Deryn had told him about the position. Was he angry with her for accepting it without consulting him? That seemed a bit daft, they’d never needed to discuss other missions for the society before, but why else would he be drawing away?

 

“You’ll write?” she found herself asking.

 

A smile spread across his lips, but Deryn noticed it didn’t reach his eyes.

 

“Of course.”

 

* * *

 

 

No secrets, that was the rule.

 

No secrets mean that when Alek said everything was fine, he meant it. The first time, as well as those that followed. By the tenth time she asked, things were a little _less_ fine because he was getting annoyed by the question, which shut Deryn up to be sure. It really was daft, Deryn told herself repeatedly, that she be so bothered by how _not_ bothered he was. If Alek insisted that he was happy for her then that was the truth, because that’s what no secrets means.

 

So why didn’t she _believe_ him? Why did she feel like he was avoiding her? Why did he say the sort of things he always did, but not nearly in the same way? Sirens blared in her mind every time Alek gave a reason to exit a conversation, red flags flashed when he politely declined her advances.

 

Over and over Deryn told herself that she was being a ninny. That change was coming fast and part of her didn’t want it to. A very small part, an irrational part, wanted everything to stay exactly as it was. But that part could get stuffed, because the change was a good one and everything was _fine._

 

That was why Cadet Deryn Sharp pushed all thoughts of Mr. Hohenberg out of her mind when she saluted the Captain Fawkes and his officers, then bowed dutifully to the event’s hostess.

 

“Thank you for this opportunity, sir,” Deryn said to the former, then to the latter, “And you mam, for your support of this project.”

Even though the society had strictly forbid Deryn from having a private conversation with Ms. Fawcett they weren’t above allowing her to fund the ceremonial launching party. The woman in question smiled thinly at Deryn, it was obvious that she wanted to say more but was already treading a thin line of diplomacy.

 

“You’re very welcome. We all hope that this will prove a wise investment.” Was all she said in response before Deryn was lead away by the Lady Boffin.

 

The way Deryn trailed behind her mentor- or _benefactor_ now Deryn supposed since the promotion, was similar to how the other Cadets dutifully followed theirs. Deryn pointedly noticed that none of the boys who _didn’t_ have the support of a society official were in attendance. That much she had expected, but she thought there would be a bit more subtlety on the matter. Just about every candidate for an officer’s position here was in an important somebody’s pocket. This whole event was less a ship’s christening then it was a dog show!

 

But that didn’t matter, Deryn supposed. Unlike these other boys who were sons of friends or respected authorities, Deryn had earned her place here with her own two hands. She would hold still and be judged for her grooming and handling, but when it came time to do the tricks she’d run circles around the others. As for her pedigree, only the Captain and a few trusted Officers knew about the extent of her credentials and they planned to keep it that way.

 

When the time came to take their seats Deryn was sent to a table along with the other Cadets, who were understandably weary of her. Deryn herself was wondering how long it would be until they had to have the conversation of how to address her. She was no lady like Dr. Barlow, so what honorific was going to replace ‘sir’?

 

“Ms. Sharp?” one of them offered, and Deryn supposed that was that.

 

Dinner was as stuffy and dull as Deryn might have expected, the self-congratulatory speeches that followed even more so. While an elderly boffin drawled on about the brave new front they were all taking symbolically, Deryn noticed a flash of metal to her right. The Cadet next to her screwed the top back onto his flask, and stuffed it back into his jacket pocket. When he noticed she’d caught him in the act his cheeks tinted pink. Deryn only held out her hand expectantly.

 

The boy looked at the extended palm wearily, and then to her face. She gave him a friendly smile that had worked for Dylan in the past. This only made his cheeks darken further, but he handed the flask over guiltily, and chocked when he saw her take a swig and hand it back.

 

“Deryn,” She said in a soft whisper to him, still grinning.

 

“Roger,” The boy responded, “Roger Peterson.”

 

“Well Roger, you’re a lifesaver,” she muttered with a low chuckle, “I can never sit through this blather.”

 

Roger finally offered her a smile in return, and once the speeches ended and the mumblings of conversation resumed Deryn excused herself. To her surprise the Cadets followed, for all that most of them were at least eighteen they acted an awful lot like baby ducks. Deryn hoped she wasn’t going to be their mum.

 

The flask was passed a few more times, and Deryn learned the other names were Oliver Jones, Jack Taylor, and Roland Brown. It was a miracle Deryn was able to get their names right at all, because in an attempt to assert her soldierly swagger she might have sipped too many times from the flask. Not that any of them would notice mind, as the flask was emptied between them soon enough. As Deryn extended an extra effort to walk in a straight line, she mused that this was the first time she’d participated in a time-honored tradition. Maybe getting drunk the night before being deployed was the last step Deryn took to being an airman, a _real_ airman.

 

When the Lady Boffin heard Deryn wanted to find her own way home she was surprisingly lenient. Dr. Barlow knew perfectly well that ‘home’ was a subjective term, and while she didn’t approve of the way in which Deryn would likely say goodbye to the young ex-prince it wasn’t like anything she could do would stop her.

 

So Deryn made her way to Alek’s flat, spurred on by liquid confidence and finally, _finally_ letting go of all her worries. Everything was all set and ready to go, all that was left to do was give her lad a warm night to remember in the lonely weeks to come. She rapped her knuckles on the door and slumped against the frame in a way that she hoped read as more ‘I’m here to screw your Clanker brains out’ and less ‘I can’t stand up right now help me.’

 

Alek opened the door and frowned at her, which was cute enough to get her giggling again.

 

“You’re drunk.” He said flatly.

 

“I’m drunk.” She agreed, oblivious to the fact.

 

For all his pouting he caught her when she lurched into his arms, and dutifully lead her inside. They played this game whenever one of them had to go away for a while, but usually far less inebriated. Deryn frowned when she was dumped onto the sofa instead of taken upstairs to the bed, but so long as he came down with her she wasn’t about to complain.

 

“I can get you a glass of water,” Alek offered, and Deryn croaked in agreement.

 

A minute later the glass was in her hand, and Deryn was beginning to read the room.

 

“You’re…” she drawled, squinting suspiciously at him, “…mad?”

 

Alek didn’t answer, just stared pointedly at the wall.

 

“Are you mad at me?” she went on, the pleasant buzz replaced with doubt, “I feel like you’re mad.”

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“Liar!” Alek jumped when Deryn wrapped her arms around his neck and sloshed the water down his shoulder, “No secrets!”

 

Deryn felt him bristle in his arms, but he calmly took the glass and set it on a coffee table.

 

“I just wonder if you acted like this in front of your new employers before even beginning your new career,” He said.

 

Deryn laughed and shook her head, “Don’t you worry, me ‘n some of the other Cadets just passed around a flask. All hush hush.”

 

This response only made things worse.

 

“Well, its good that they accept you, then.” He said, and Deryn was finally able to recognize the ice in his tone.

 

“Aye, that is good,” Deryn said, confused and a little peeved at his attitude, “Its barking _brilliant,_ even though I’m a girl!”

 

There was a silence then, before Deryn spoke up.

 

“You’re bottling something up,” she said, “You’ve been bottling something up for a while now.”

 

Alek took a deep breath but didn’t say anything.

 

“You’re mad at me for drinking?” she offered.

 

“No.”

 

Deryn nodded, knowing that probably was just an excuse to hide the _real_ thing that was bothering him. She tried again.

 

“You think I’m going to fool around with one of the other Cadets?”

 

This got a bigger reaction.

 

“Of course not!”

 

While Deryn pouted and tried to think of something else, Alek gave in and mumbled something under his breath.

 

“What was that?”

 

For a moment Alek just looked at her, his expression unreadable. He growled out a sigh and spoke a little louder.

 

_“I didn’t want you to take the job.”_

 

There was a silence then, Deryn too stunned to even formulate a response. It didn’t last long however.

 

“Its…it’s a bit _late_ for that Alek!”

 

Alek rose from the sofa, to cross to the window and slide his fingers over the sill.

 

“I know that, but I still…”

 

His voice caught then, and Deryn knew she should probably feel bad for him but found anger in her voice instead.

 

“I _asked_ if everything was alright!” she said, “You told me that everything was _fine_.”

 

“I _couldn’t_ tell you.”

 

“Couldn’t tell me?” Deryn asked, “What, does this ‘no secrets’ thing only go one way?”

 

Alek’s voice was suddenly hard and angry, “If I told you it would have influenced your decision.”

 

Deryn flinched back at the hostility, then bristled herself.

 

“That _doesn’t matter!”_ she growled, “We tell each other _everything,_ that’s the bloody promise!”

 

“But you _needed_ to leave,” Alek spun around, fully shouting now, “You don’t think I notice? How much happier you are when we’re in the air between missions? I can see how you deflate the moment you’re on the ground. You don’t even try to _hide_ it, I can _see_ that I’m not enough anymore!”

 

The last words pierced Deryn’s ears in a way that left a soft ring, dazing her for a moment. When she came back she found him looking accusingly at her, which only made her angrier.

 

“That’s a load of _yackum_!” She could shout too, “And even if that wasn’t completely barking ridiculous…- _which it is,_ then you could have said something then too!”

 

Rage colored Alek’s features while he searched for words like a gasping fish. Finally he fell silent, and looked at her with such an expression of utter agony that it almost broke through her own anger. Almost.

 

“I wanted to _marry_ you, Deryn,” he said, “I wanted to start a family with you, but now I see how happy you are to go back to the air and…there just isn’t any _point_.”

 

And just like that, everything seemed to wash away, and Deryn could see exactly where this was going. And he was right, there _was_ no point. No point in pretending that she’d ever be the pretty wife he wanted, no point in trying to make juvenile puppy love into something more, no point in throwing away his empire for some daft lassie who wouldn’t even stay with him on the ground.

 

“Don’t bother writing.” Deryn spat, finding the strength to lift herself from the sofa and march to the door.

 

If Alek made any move to stop her, she didn’t see it. Slamming the door shut behind her, Deryn Sharp marched out into the cold.

 

* * *

 

 

When dawn finally came Deryn was out of bed and dressed hours before she was supposed to be. The entire night’s sleep had been punctuated with snappy retorts and flashes of rage reignited while she unraveled the full extent of her anger. But sleep had eventually come, as did awakening. It was actually eerily similar to how she worke before her first day in the service, except this time the her room didn’t smell like clart and she’d at least had the sense to pass out in bed with the newest edition of the _Manual of Aeronautics_ over her eyes.

 

The little dormitory where she had spent the last few years of her life had been all packed up, her belongings either sent to Ma’s attic in Glasgow or stuffed into the duffel by the door. After Deryn left this room would be given to someone else, her new home would be the _Mazikeen._ It wasn’t difficult to say goodbye to the little room, seeing as she hardly slept there anymore since Alek bought his own flat. She had only really slept here tonight because…well…it hadn’t been long enough to draw an attachment and that’s all that really mattered. Without any sense of ceremony Deryn walked out of the dormitory for the last time and stepped into the coach with the Lady Boffin.

 

“Might I say it is so satisfying to see you properly dressed,” Dr. Barlow said upon inspecting her, “In accordance to both your accomplishments and gender.”

 

“Aye mam,” Deryn said, “Though I have some notes for whoever designed the jacket, its got no pockets!”

 

From the silence that followed Deryn suspected that Dr. Barlow didn’t realize why this might be such a problem. And maybe it wasn’t so much one, but Deryn felt like grousing about _something._

 

“Its not like I’ll be wearing this all the time though,” Deryn admitted, “So it’s alright, I suppose.”

 

The Lady Boffin nodded slowly, her face placid and knowing as always. Deryn knew, however, that Barlow was trying to guess at the reason for Deryn’s touchy mood. That was fine by her, even if Deryn wanted to keep it all hush hush it was only a matter of time until The Lady Boffin put it all together.

 

“Shame young Mr. Hohenberg will not be seeing us off,” Barlow finally said, “Though I imagine you’ve already bid your farewells?”

 

“Aye,” Deryn said, “Like ripping off a plaster.”

 

“Ah.” Was all Doctor Barlow replied in response, and there was no more to be said on the matter.

 

Instead they ran through the assorted pleasantries and customs that Deryn would have to preform, even if her inclusion was only symbolic. Still, it was easier to worry about that then the other thing, so Deryn responded dutifully to all the Lady Boffin’s questions. When they finally arrived at Wormwood Scrubs, all thoughts of ex-princes had been chased from Deryn’s mind.

 

Taking off had passed like a blur. Deryn had already toured the ship and been told how to operate it, even in her ridiculous uniform Deryn went about her duties as well as she could. It would be easier for everyone when she incorporated a pair of trousers into the outfit, but they couldn’t have that with the cameras watching now could they?

 

Finally the airfield and all of its well-wishers were sliding away, and Deryn sat in what was probably the _Mazikeen’s_ equivalent of a middy’s mess. The others were crowded by the window, shoving at each other to be caught on camera, but Deryn had enough time in the spotlight. Here in the air she was back to being a _real_ airman, boy or girl. Prince or no prince.

 

The next few days were filled with practicing drills and combat maneuvers. First thing Deryn was politely offered a permanent place at the bridge instead of the spine. Midshipman Dylan Sharp would never reject an assignment aboard the _Leviathan_ , but neither of he or Mr. Rigby was here right now. So Cadet Deryn Sharp refused the offer and went on to baffle the riggers and fellow Cadets with her knot-tying and Huxley experience.

 

After that there were a few less smirks and snickers every time she climbed the ratlines, and other crewman slowly stopped asking if any of the boys were available whenever she offered assistance.

 

It took the other Cadets a bit longer to warm up. Even when they had, it still wouldn’t ever be the same treatment Dylan would have received. Dirty jokes and particularly vulgar swears were spared in her company, and Deryn was above most of the stupid competitions. Every now and then she participated anyway however, just because racing up ratlines and throwing knives was dead good fun.

 

And that was all fine she supposed, she could make do with being The Girl so long as they didn’t creep around eggshells all the time. She made it clear she didn’t think so highly of herself to avoid being insulted, and that made things go a lot better. These boys were smarter then those on the _Leviathan_ had been, all of them trained by the Society in a similar fashion to Deryn. Ironically, she was the only _soldier_ amongst them, and the only one who showed enthusiasm when preforming her duties.

 

About a month into the maiden voyage the first letters came, and Deryn felt the first shards of dread when she saw who it was from. She was the only Cadet to receive any mail, seeing how this mission was more to flaunt the airbeast then establish any political agendas, and the shady society members had better things to do.

 

“P-boy’s got a letter!” Roger said to no one in particular, mostly because no on in particular cared.

 

“Aye,” Deryn said passively, “What’s it matter to you?”

 

The boy frowned, Roger always got so disappointed whenever Deryn didn’t react properly to his teasing.

 

“Well what else is there to get excited over? We’re in _Siberia._ ”

 

Something about how he said the word struck a chord in Deryn, reminding her of the way a certain beastie on a Prince’s shoulder used to say it. She frowned irritably and shook the thought out of her head. It was ridiculous, feeling pensive just from reading a name on a piece of paper.

 

“He’s got a point,” Roland added lazily, “Why don’t you read it for us, P-boy?”

 

“Get stuffed!” Deryn snapped too quickly, making even doe-eyed Oliver look up from his book.

 

Deryn swore. She liked to think that after a month of everyone expecting her to act like a daft girl she’d learned to school her emotions, but now she’d gone screechy and caught the attention of everyone in the room.

 

“That’s not a very pretty thing to say,” Roger said with an arched brow, “What’s wrong Deryn?”

 

“Nothing!” Deryn said, flinching as her voice squeaked.

 

There was a scraping of chairs as the lot of them scrambled to sit closer to her, all wide eyed and grinning curiously.

 

“What’s the letter?” Roland asked, “You can tell us.”

 

“Can I now?” Deryn asked irritably, then sighed. There was no point in trying to hide it, not all of it anyway, “Just…had a bit of a complication before I joined up.”

 

She looked again down at the sealed envelope, dreading the message inside. She didn’t know what would be worse, a scathing rant completely denouncing her, or a tearful apology begging for forgiveness.

 

“Complication?” Oliver asked, “You mean you left on bad terms with someone?”

 

The grin that spread across Roger’s face when he heard that was evil in its purest form.

 

“Goodness _gracious_! _”_ he said with a huff, “Am I to believe that our P-Boy is a _heartbreaker?_ ”

 

Her scowl was wasted on him, the boy only leaned in conspiratorially.

 

“Give us the dirty details then!” he said, voice high with amusement, “Don’t be shy P-Boy, this is the most _interesting_ thing I’ve heard about you since you’ve come aboard!”

 

“I’m the first girl to serve aboard an airship in service to the King,” Deryn said flatly, which only earned her a dismissive wave of the fingers.

 

“Yes but you can read about all that in the papers,” Roger said, “Come on lads, don’t you want to hear the story of how Pretty-Boy Deryn left some poor bloke behind?”

 

The others seemed to remember that they were in the room, and there was an awkward mumbling and rubbing of necks in response.

 

“Where’s your taste for romance?” Roger chided, hands on hips, “Don’t you want to- _Hey now!_ Don’t leave P-Boy! I’m only messing with you!”

 

Deryn ignored him as she marched out of the room, she had better things to do then be harassed by a bumrag.

 

* * *

 

 

Roger was a complete annoyance over the next few days. Every time someone clapped Deryn on the back he’d warn them ‘not to fall for her whiles’ and whenever she gave him a kind word he’d accuse her of trying to seduce him. It was just the same kind of blather he usually did to get a rise out of all of them, the only real way to get him to shut up was to stop being so bothered by it.

 

But that was difficult to do, especially since Deryn didn’t know yet if she even _was_ the heartbreaker, or just the one getting her heart broken. The letter lay in the bottom drawer of her desk unopened, Deryn still had no idea as to what was written inside. Every time she went to open it she could only think of that _other_ letter, the one that had been chucked over the side of the _Leviathan_ and was now probably covered in barnacles.

 

After a while Roger grew bored of the joke and went back to harassing Roland about the way his hair stuck up at the back, but Deryn was still peeved with him. The boy was completely determined to make a joke of everyone’s deepest insecurities, almost to an excessive extent. Deryn wondered why it was so barking _important_ to him to get on everyone’s nerves. Maybe it was just the fact that he had finally found a way to tread on her toes too, but the ‘Silver-Tongued Rogue’ bit was becoming more and more tiresome every day.

 

There was one thing to be gained from his bullying however. With Roger being exhausting all the time it made it a lot easier to _not_ think about the other boy who’d been on her mind lately. Deryn was able to forget about the letter completely until a second one came. Deryn made sure not to let any of the boys see that one, promptly shoving it into her coat pocket the moment she recognized the handwriting. She started for her cabin, hoping she could shove the second letter in the desk with the first. It was not to be however, as the claxon rang just as soon as she left the mess.

 

Drills again. Brilliant.

 

It didn’t matter that the _Mazikeen_ wasn’t a warship, the skies were a dangerous place even without Clankers and Darwinists at each other’s throats. They all had to be ready for an unfriendly encounter, even if it might very well never come. Deryn scrambled to the spine with the other Cadets, her body moving automatically to her battle station and going through the motions. They had no fléchette bats or strafing hawks, but the incorporation of Clanker engines creating a stronger lift meant that they could carry a few more tinker toys. Deryn usually assisted either of the flanking turrets along with Roger, seeing how they were the fastest climbers.

 

It wasn’t until Deryn had been waiting a full twenty minutes for a commanding officer to come and dismiss her that she realized the claxon hadn’t shut off yet. Deryn wondered if perhaps it might be malfunctioning, but then saw the black shadow beneath them.

 

“Is that…?” One of the gunman asked, squinting through his goggles.

 

Slowly, like a harbinger of doom, something bright and flaming arched up from the ocean below straight for them. Deryn’s eyes widened, the only one of them who could see that it _wasn’t_ any sort of flare.

 

Memories of rockets sucked into engines flashed to the forefront of her mind and mingled with the brief relationship she had with a storm walker’s Gatling gun. Deryn’s hands moved without thinking in a moment the turret’s barrel moved from its locked position to the shadow below. She didn’t even know what she wanted to _accomplish,_ only that it didn’t involve a fiery doom.

 

Technically she hadn’t been given any orders, so technically it wasn’t disobedient to fire. The _Mazikeen_ was nowhere near as large as the _Leviathan,_ which could easily be sunk in less then three shots from a Clanker canon. If they survived whatever was rocketing towards them it would be a close thing, and Deryn Sharp wasn’t going to risk getting hit by another. As the shell rattled through the barrel the entire turret pod shook, the other two gunmen looked at her like she was utterly mad.

 

“What are you _doing_ you-“

 

He wasn’t able to finish, there was an impossibly loud _boom_ that deafened all sound air. Deryn blinked in astonishment, realizing that through some freak miracle she had actually _hit_ the projectile dead on!

 

The following shockwave proved to Deryn that she had been right. A simple flare wouldn’t have the power to make the whole barking airship shudder like a buoy on the waves. When the smoke cleared Deryn rushed to the visor to see the smoke trails of a Clanker warship hot in pursuit.

 

“What in _blazes?”_ A gunman swore, “We’re out in the middle of bloody _nowhere!”_

 

“Aye, and so are they!” Deryn cried, “And they’ve probably brought more then one shell with them!”

 

This wasn’t a drill, this was a _real_ battle with _real_ enemies below. Deryn relinquished control of her turret to one of the gunmen, not willing to bet on another lucky shot. The pod rattled again as the turret resumed fire, shooting through the smoke and clouds.

 

Even with all the shaking, Deryn pulled out her spyglass and tried to look for any markings. What kind of warship would follow a civilian aircraft this far into the Pacific Ocean? The peace treaty had ended all hostilities between the Clankers and Allied powers, and even if they _hadn’t_ it wasn’t like things were friendly enough to give regular updates of _Mazikeen’s_ progress to the Germans. No one outside the Society even knew they were this far North, having only decided to cut across the Arctic after a storm had pushed them off course.

 

There was no reason for this attack, this _couldn’t_ be happening!

 

The second barrage just barely missed, the _Mazikeen’s_ cilia turning the airbeast just in time. But even as the big phosphorous canon reloaded, Deryn could hear the _putting_ of a Gatling gun firing from below. Up here on the spine Deryn was safe, but saw as the glass shattered in the two gondola turrets just below.

 

The warship passed beneath them, and Deryn held fast to the railing in preparation for the aerial bomb release to rock the whole ship. When it didn’t happen she swore. What was the Bombay up to? A Cream tea?

 

“I’m heading below,” Deryn shouted, swinging out of the pod to scramble up the ratlines.

 

Even with the howling of the wind, the baying of hydrogen sniffers, and the thudding of the turrets, Deryn couldn’t help but slide into a sense of security. She may not have the courage to open a few letters, but when it came to scraps in the sky Deryn Sharp knew exactly what to do. As she raced across the spine Deryn saw Roger already cranking open the hatch. When he caught sight of her he bellowed above the gale.

 

“The left gondola turret’s bust!” he said.

 

Deryn blinked. Had he just said ‘left’ instead of ‘port’?

 

“I think the Bombay might’ve been hit as well,” she said, “We just missed a perfect shot!”

 

Roger frowned.

 

“The Bombay? None of us were assigned to the Bombay, were we?”

 

Again Deryn stared in confusion. “Aye, but what does that have to do with anything?”

 

“We should get to the turret first,” Roger said, “Ollie’s in there and he might be hurt!”

 

Deryn’s jaw dropped clean open. Was she the only one on this entire barking airship with any _actual_  combat experience? She shook the thought out of her head, there was no time to waste feeling superior.

 

“Don’t be a _dumkopf!_ ” she said, about ready to knock him upside the head, “If we don’t drop any bombs soon we’re _all_ going to burn!”

 

Deryn was down the hatch before Roger could spew any more nonsense. As she raced through the gondola she was nearly knocked onto her backside when the floor jerked to the side without warning. Poor Roger wasn’t as sure-footed, landing flat on his face. With a groan of irritation Deryn hurriedly helped him up.

 

“What was _that?”_ Roger asked, eyes wide.

 

“ _That_ was one of their rockets hitting its mark,” Deryn said, “And I don’t think we’ll be able to take another one. So unless you’ve got another way to sink that warship I suggest we get _moving!”_

 

It seemed Roger had no smart rebuttal to that, Deryn shoved him along.

 

The Bombay was in a state of chaos, the crewman desperately trying to pry open the hatch doors.

 

“What, a _malfunction?_ ” Deryn asked, astonished.

 

“No si- ma- Lad-… _Cadet._ ” An operative said, stuttering over honorifics for a moment, “The hatch has been _welded shut!_ ”

 

Deryn and Roger traded glances. That was all a bit barking _convenient,_ wasn’t it? The last bomb run was just a few days ago, who in blazes would have welded the hatch shut just in time for the warship’s attack. Sabotage, then? But from _whom?_ Only the Boffins knew about the _Mazikeen’s_ course. Then the horrid realization slowly crept upon her.

 

Could that warship be _Darwinist?_

 

It certainly looked Clanker in design, but like the Japanese the Allied Powers had sieged many of the Keizer’s warships towards the end of the Great War. The _Mazikeen_ had only stopped in Darwinist airfields to refuel, if anyone had snuck aboard to cause trouble they had to be from one of those cities. Something cold and unnerving crept into Deryn’s heart, but she stamped it away.

 

Now was _not_ the time to unravel schemes, they needed to get that hatch open and _fast._

 

Deryn went to try and help the other men but could see that it wasn’t going to budge. She swore and looked through the shattered windows as the canon reloaded. She turned to yell at Roger to help, but saw him eyeing the trail of the last rocket leading up to them like a strand of smoky yarn. Instead of grabbing a crowbar or doing anything _useful_ Roger scrambled to the console that connected directly to the bridge.

 

“Greetings to the Bridge from Cadet Peterson,” he said, “We need to steer the ship slightly off course, just by a smidge.”

 

He swung his head about to look at the smoke trail, a frown on his face, “Maybe a yard to the left?”

 

Deryn waited for the bridge to demand an explanation, but then felt the tug of the airship as it turned. Deryn groaned. Now that was just barking _embarrassing._

 

“What was _that_ for?” she barked, “Now it’ll just be _easier_ to hit us!”

 

“Here’s to hoping!” he said with a mad grin, then turned to the other crewman, “Unload the bombs and get away from that hatch!”

 

The rest of the crew at least understood how hierarchies were supposed to work, but even if a Cadet had just single handedly doomed them all that didn’t change the fact they needed to get out of the Bombay _now._ There was a distant boom as the canon fired again, all of them scrambling to evacuate as the whistling grew nearer. The blast was deafening, blinding, and punched the _Mazikeen_ back a few yards. Deryn and the other crewmen looked back at the wreckage of the Bombay, and watched as all of their remaining aerial bombs rolled out of the demolished hatch and into the open air. From there they fell as ungraceful as bird droppings, Deryn held her breath and pleaded with whoever might give a damn that none of them collided with each other on the way down.

 

There was one final catastrophic _boom_ as six bombs detonated at once, followed by a deafening silence.

 

Deryn slid to the gaping hole and stared out into the sea. As she had predicted, the warship was but a sinking wreckage. Now would be the time that a kraken would finish the job, if they _had_ any kraken. Even as it was the water so close to the Arctic sea was cold enough to kill in a matter of hours, and the bombs would have destroyed all hope of the ship calling for rescue.

 

And that was it. The ship was gone. Barking _Roger Peterson_ had just sunk it in one go. The devil himself cackled out a laugh, as if he had no idea that it would actually work.

 

Deryn turned to glare at him in complete horror, “Do you realize what would have happened if that went _wrong?_ ”

 

“We might have gone for a swim?” Roger asked, raising a brow.

 

“No! If that shell had hit the membrane we’d all go up in flames!”

 

Roger nodded and looked at her as though she was simple, “Yes, but the Bombay’s made of metal, which was why we positioned ourselves a few yards over. And it worked, see?” He gestured to the smoking remains.

 

There were a million things Deryn could have said in response to this, so many she couldn’t pick just one. All she could do was swear and turn out of the Bombay. Walking back through the gondola Roger jogged up behind her.

 

“Can we go see Ollie now?” he asked, concern twisting his features.

 

“We? I’m not your barking _mum,_ ” Deryn spat, “Go where you want.”

 

This only caused Roger to smile nervously.

 

“Right, you’re my Pretty Boy,” he said, “But seriously, I’m worried about Ollie.”

 

“Why do you care so much about Ollie all of a sudden?” She demanded, choosing to ignore that first bit.

 

“Because he’s our friend!”

 

Even as Deryn resumed rushing to the turret she still wanted to berate the ninny for _something_ , “Aye, that’s why you’ve been giving him hell over a bit of egg he had on his shirt three weeks ago.”

 

Roger snorted dismissively, “That’s an inside joke, it just means we’re _good_ friends. Like your mysterious lover and Rolly’s spikey hair.”

 

Deryn rolled her eyes at this, realizing finally that the boy was completely insane and trying to understand him would just give her a headache.

 

“Its an inside joke,” Roger repeated with a hint of worry in his voice, “Did… you not know that?”

 

“Lets just see if Ollie’s alive, shall we?” Deryn said with a sigh.

 

The turret pod was still attached to the gondola at least, but that was about the only good news. One of the gunmen was nursing a bad cut, while Ollie tried to help the other to his feet.

 

“Its not so bad, we just got a bit cut up by shrapnel,” he said, “What _happened?”_

 

“A surprise attack,” Roger said, “And I saved us!”

 

“You narrowly avoided _killing_ us you mean!” Deryn snapped, “This ninny got us hit by a shell on purpose to blow open the Bombay hatch!”

 

The expression on Ollie’s face wasn’t anything _sensible_ like horror or disgust, but instead the same excited expression he wore when recounting his favorite chapters of those adventure novels he was so fond of.

 

“Really?” he asked, “What did it look like?”

 

“Bloody _fantastic!”_ Roger said with a wide grin.

 

Deryn gasped like a fish, the sentences beginning and dying in her throat. With a swear she turned and marched away as it finally sunk in that Deryn was aboard an airship run by barking _monkeys._

Unbeknownst to her, something slipped out of her pocket then. Also unbeknownst to her, Roger had been jogging behind her and knelt to pick it up.

 

“We have a name!” he cried with glee, “Who’s this _Alek_ person, P-boy?”

 

* * *

 

 

Roger smiled an awful lot for someone with a black eye.

 

The bumrag had gone as far as insisting he won it in battle, even though there weren’t a lot of ways to get a black eye from rockets. Still, it was apparent that no one here besides her knew what went on during air battles, the other boys were completely fooled. Deryn was starting to feel like she had done him a favor in punching him, which only made it more _annoying_.

 

 

Thanks to Roger’s ‘heroics’ destroying half the gondola, the _Mazikeen’s_ maiden voyage had to be cut short. They had stopped in a nearby airfield for repairs, but the damage was too great. They’d need to go all the way back to London, and since the surprise attack the Officers took the military aspect of running an airship a lot more seriously. This meant more drills with their limited resources, more lectures on maneuver warfare, and watches now lasted the entire night.

 

Deryn didn’t mind any of this in theory, but that also meant that she had been stuck with Roger for the past three hours. He’d gone back to the teasing, of course. Thankfully it was cut off by the punch and he’d been wise enough not to bring it up in front of the others since, but he still badgered her in private about her secret paramour. There was only a limited amount if rising above Deryn was capable of, and the time finally came when Deryn hit the roof.

 

“You know, its not funny or charming or whatever anymore,” She cut in whilst Roger was in the middle of explaining a particularly scandalous theory on who Alek was.

 

“Implying that you think I was funny and charming at some point?” he asked, flashing her a grin, “Poor Alek, if only he could see how you-“

 

“Shut up, shut up, _shut up!”_ Deryn found herself yelling, rising to her feet to face him, “You have _no_ idea what you’re talking about and everything you’ve said so far is completely ridiculous so just do us both a favor and _shut up!”_

 

Roger recoiled, looking up at her with genuine shock. He frowned, a _real_ frown and not the jokey one he usually did. There was merciful silence then, Deryn slumped against the rail and tried to go back to her sketching.

 

“I’m…” Roger coughed into a fist, trying to find the words. “You know I’m only…”

 

“Aye, only pulling my leg,” she grumbled, “But sometimes a _dummkopf_ pulls a bit too hard a bit too often.”

 

“Oh.” Was all he said in response, “I’m sorry, then.”

 

More silence, Deryn’s hands couldn’t stop shaking enough to make a proper ellipse.

 

“Doom-koph,” Roger repeated after a while, “You say that a lot, doesn’t sound like gaelic.”

 

This got her attention at least. “Why would it be gaelic?”

 

Roger shrugged, his smile returning a little. “You are _ludicrously_ Scottish, P-Boy.”

 

That won him a snort, so the bumrag thought he ought to go on. “So what’s it mean then, doom-koph?”

 

Deryn opened her mouth to answer, but realized she’d never really asked for a literal translation. “The Clanker version of a ninny, I think.”

 

“And why do you know _that_?” he asked.

 

“I’ve got some boffin training in me,” she said, borrowing Dr. Barlow’s lie, “Lots of scientific philosophy is written in Clanker.”

 

“And there’s mention of ninnies in scientific journals?”

 

Deryn shrugged. “Odd bunch, boffins.”

 

Now that things were a bit calmer Deryn had to admit that Roger probably wasn’t a bad sort. A double-edged sword, considering that now all her frustrations could return to agonizing over a letter she didn’t even read. Maybe Roger wasn’t as completely nutty as she gave him credit for, because he seemed to notice her deflate a little.

 

“At the risk of getting punched again,” he said slowly, as if hushing a wild animal, “Who exactly is Alek, and why are you so down about it him?”

 

“Just a daft boy,” Deryn said, “Full of daft promises he didn’t end up keeping.”

 

That was a bit unfair she knew, but it wasn’t like she’d promised ‘no secrets’ to Roger. And so she told him. Not _everything,_ of course. Deryn left out the bits about how they’d met aboard the _Leviathan_ and all the time she’d spent in trousers. She also didn’t mention that Alek was the famous Prince who threw away his claim to the throne, knowing how the bumrag would respond to _that._ As it was, however, Roger felt appropriately rotten for giving her clart over it all, which had its own satisfaction.

 

“I just thought you were sore because you missed someone,” He said rubbing his neck, “I didn’t know it was a _broken_ _engagement_ that’s got you so grumpy lately.”

 

Deryn didn’t feel the need to deny the accusation, the same thing had happened during her first falling out with his princeliness, after all. “Aye, I’m told he has a way of dampening my mood.”

 

“You used to laugh a lot more, and you didn’t take it as seriously when we heckled each other,” Roger smiled a little awkwardly, “And if someone can take all that away, he’s hardly worth the hassle.”

 

There was some knowing in those words, and if Deryn wasn’t currently on the couch herself she might have dug into it, but now it was her turn to gush like the heartbroken ninny she was.

 

“I’m dreading going back to London,” Deryn admitted, “He’s going to be barking _everywhere._ ”

 

“You could ask one of us to help out,” he offered, “We all have to act like we aren’t protective of you because you could probably take us all at once but I guarantee the others would bend over backwards for your approval.”

 

Deryn shot him a glare, remembering what ‘protectiveness’ meant back in Glasgow.

 

“You’re not allowed to punch him,” she said flatly.

 

Roger scoffed with mock indignance.

 

“I’m hurt,” he said, “You know I would _never_ rob you of an opportunity to punch something.”

 

“I don’t want _anyone_ to punch him!” Deryn growled out a sigh, “I just want…”

And that was the tricky thing, wasn’t it? What exactly did Deryn Sharp _want_?

 

“Ah,” Roger said after a while, “I see. Well then, emotional support. If you need an emotional barricade, I’m your man.”

 

Deryn looked at him sideways, he seemed so different then the cartoonish alpha male persona he usually put up. Maybe that had something to do with her being a girl, since he didn’t have to try and outmatch her he had a little room to be a decent person.

 

“Emotions? Am I to believe you’ve got some heart underneath all that cold blood?” She asked, causing the boy to snort.

 

“So do lizards,” He replied with great dignity.

 

* * *

 

 

Much to the surprise of no one, Deryn was promoted.

 

The reason no one was surprised was both because she obviously deserved it and because the _Mazikeen_ needed money for repairs, meaning it was time to call upon that precious _novelty_ once again. Cameras flashed as Deryn posed beside the captain, and she had spent the first hours back in London recounting the battle in an interview.

 

And what a novel battle it had been! A plucky airship with no real weapons and a plucky airgirl on board, the audience were bound to cheer for Deryn and the _Mazikeen_ after surviving based on wits and skill alone. The same could be argued for Roger, but his pluckiness had resulted in the failure of the first voyage, so that was kept rather under wraps. If at all possible to be anything lowlier then a Cadet, he would have been demoted. As it was however the Captain only had a stern word with him and gave a suspension, a mere formality because since the ship was undergoing repairs they were _all_ suspended. Deryn supposed he just had to look a bit more shame faced while stepping off the ship or something.

 

The next few months would be littered with fundraisers and galas and all the same blather that made the airship possible in the first place. This time, however, quite a few more Americans were opening their checkbooks, particularly a certain Mr. Hearst. Deryn was introduced to the enchanting Adela Rogers, who made a point of gushing over the tragic demise of Deryn’s brave late cousin, Midshipman Dylan Sharp. Apparently the girl reporter had known him quite well, though Deryn didn’t recall any of the supposed flirting that had gone on between them.

 

By the time the _Mazikeen_ was ready to sail again the project’s budget had increased by threefold and the American tabloids had completely taken over. Another slew of parties had been planned, these promised to be more grand and extraordinary then the first. Instead of her uniform Deryn was locked in a room with an eccentric French designer until a special lady’s suit was sewn up for her.

 

 _Again_ with the bloody pencil skirt, but at least she had a pocket to keep her own flask.

 

Since the party was so big and grand now, it meant that _he_ would doubtless be in attendance. She hadn’t seen him since slamming the door behind her months ago, and his two letters still sat unopened in her drawer. Opening then now would be useless. Whatever they had said he had probably changed his tune after she had ignored him for those three months. Deryn would have preferred to avoid the whole affair anyway, but couldn’t have the heroine of the story absent from its celebration. Still, he was going to be there, and whether he wanted to demand closure or simply shout at her some more Deryn didn’t want to be unprepared.

 

“Emotional barricade,” Deryn muttered to Roger as they left the hotel as a group, “You said I could ask for an emotional barricade. I’m asking. Don’t let him _near_ me.”

 

“Whose him?” Jack asked from her other side, wide buggy eyes narrow in a rare display of emotion.

 

“She’s avoiding a lover scorned,” Oliver provided in his dreamy way, “And wants us to be her valiant protectors.”

 

“Our P-Boy is quite a catch, Jackie.” Roland said with a smirk, “Got to beat the suitors off with a stick or else we’ll lose her.”

 

Deryn only half listened to the banter, even surrounded by friends on all sides she couldn’t help but feel twitchy. What would it be like seeing him again? What if some big emotional yackum took hold of her body and made her do something mad? What if he looked at her and she turned pink, what if he spoke a harsh word and she _cried?_ Worst of all, what if he forgave her. What if he smiled and got that look in his eyes that told Deryn he would always do _anything_ to make her happy, and she had avoided him all this time for nothing.

 

But none of that mattered in any case. Deryn had her mates, and that meant she didn’t have to think about him at all. Right now her job was to be plucky and novel for the investors, once the _Mazikeen_ was in the air again she could open the letters and tie up all the remaining loose ends.

 

And so the dance began again, well-wishers and supporters queued to shake the airgirl’s hand, but Deryn noticed that the other Cadets took turns finding reasons to lead the male audience members away.

 

Right, she hadn’t told any of them what to look out for, had she? That could make things a wee bit more difficult.

 

In either case, Deryn didn’t see him anywhere. She was starting to think that maybe he ran back to Clankerland to beg for his throne, even though the empire attached was all but collapsed. It was anything but a cheery idea, and only served to remind Deryn of how deeply she had betrayed him. It was very possible that if he _was_ here, but off somewhere refusing to acknowledge her existence. Not knowing which was worse was becoming a common theme in Deryn’s thoughts concerning him.

 

It was soon clear to everyone that the barricade idea was completely unnecessary and more then a bit juvenile. Still, it wasn’t like they had anything better to do. All of them except for Roland anyway, who had been lead astray by an American lassie’s high hemline. Soon the pleasantries were over and done, Deryn lounging with her mates in a corner and waiting for this whole ordeal to be over.

 

The others could leave whenever they wanted, but Deryn and Roger had to be summoned at any moment to recount the battle _again._ Roger himself had been pulled away first thing, probably to at least make a show that he was being punished. When Deryn stopped to think about it the fact he was being punished at all was a bit daft, seeing how it had been the bridge who took up his stupid request without a single follow up question. But that’s what made a better story, and a better story might very well mean some real defenses next time the _Mazikeen_ lifted off.

 

With Roland gone and Roger looking sheepish somewhere else, only Jack and Oliver remained. Jack kept going to pull at his collar, Deryn could tell the poor boy was itching to get the barking thing off. He was one of those sorts who would have been opposed to the entire concept of clothing had he been there at the time, and while that was completely weird even Deryn could sympathize that full dress uniform might be difficult for him.

 

“You can head out, if you want,” she said, “Ollie will keep me company, wont you?”

 

Oliver looked up from his book as if hearing her for the first time and nodded.

 

“Just let me know when valiance is in order,” he said with a smile.

 

“See? My hero.” Deryn shoved Jack up from his seat, “Go be pear-shaped somewhere else.”

 

He smiled thankfully at her and backed away slowly into the crowd. Even as a cool shiver ran down Deryn’s spine watching him go she could concede that she cared about the funny git.

 

Now alone with the far quieter Oliver Deryn had little more to do then take in her surroundings. After a moment of looking about she realized this was the same ballroom the Society used for the New Years Party. Deryn hadn’t been the last few years, and had been so busy lately she’d not put two and two together.

 

Memories flooded back before Deryn could stop them, costumes and champagne, secret kisses in a changing room just for the two of them. A smile curled across her lips. She had made him wear a skirt, or rather he had set it up so he’d be in a skirt and Deryn merely enforced it. He had said she looked beautiful and she had screwed up her face. He went on to say she was just as handsome in a dress as in a jacket, and she had kissed him until he squeaked.

 

“Is that Mr. Hohenberg?”

 

Deryn jerked out of her mooning, for a moment convinced that Oliver had somehow been reading her mind. Instead she found his book in his lap as he gaped at the man who was coming towards them.

 

“That’s the _prince_ isnt it?” Oliver hissed in an ecstatic whisper, “I read about him, his parents were killed and he was forced out on the run, then was rescued from the Swiss by the _Leviathan_. And now he works _here,_ but I’ve never actually met him before!”

 

Deryn glanced sideways at the adoration in Oliver’s eyes and groaned. Of _course_ Oliver would be obsessed with a real-life prince who went on all the same adventures he’d find in his precious stories.

 

“Oh right,” Oliver said, catching on to Deryn’s discomfort, “Well, if you talk to _him_ then I’m sure your scorned lover wont come anywhere near you. Mr. Hohenberg’s a _Clanker,_ and everyone thinks it was a Clanker ship that attacked us!”

 

Deryn opened her mouth to respond, but Oliver was practically shaking with giddiness.

 

“He’s coming over!” he hissed, “You think he’s one of _our_ fans? You’ll tell him _I_ was apart of the battle too, wont you?”

 

And then there was nothing more Deryn could say that Alek wouldn’t hear, so she kept the next comment to herself. Deryn’s heard thudded in her throat, but she managed to school her features smooth.

 

“Hello, Deryn,” he said, “Its nice to see you again.”

 

There were many things Deryn wanted to say to that, but she went with the most civil. “Aye, it is.”

 

Deryn knew Oliver was staring at her, so she got up to make the proper introductions.

 

“Mr. Hohenberg was a close friend of my late cousin’s,” Deryn explained, “Aleksander, this is Oliver Jones. He was with us during the battle aboard the _Mazikeen_.”

 

Alek smiled politely to Oliver, who turned bright red and only looked back down at his book. It seemed Alek didn’t exactly know how to react to that, and Deryn felt a bit of satisfaction. A bit creepy, all that ‘You’re the boy I wish I was’ hero worship, wasn’t it?

 

“I read about what happened to your airship,” Alek said when it became obvious Oliver wasn’t going to contribute, “It was…disturbing to say the least.”

 

Deryn blinked. She hadn’t thought of that.

 

“Aye, well we’re all fine now,” she assured him, “Thanks to Ollie here and Mr. Peterson.”

 

“I can see that,” Alek said, “And I’m glad for it. I lost my best friend recently, I don’t know what I would have done if you didn’t come back.”

 

It was all Deryn could do not to wince. He just _had_ to say that, didn’t he?

 

“If you don’t mind, Miss Sharp, perhaps we could take a walk and reminisce?”

 

There was nothing else for it now, Deryn took a deep breath. She’d have to sort this _eventually_.

 

“Of course, Mr. Hohenberg,” Deryn said, taking his arm.

 

It was still a little awkward because she was still a little taller then he was, but Deryn was more distracted by what it felt like to be so close again.

 

They’d been apart for longer then three months before, but for some reason Deryn’s skin crackled just as it had those first weeks when both her gender and her feelings were a secret. Alek lead her out of the ballroom, and Deryn noticed they passed by the changing room.

 

“I don’t suppose you have a key?” Alek asked, all Deryn could do was smile and shake her head.

 

The hotel was barking _enormous,_ with pretty parks and restaurants spiraling around it. There was no place they could go to be properly _alone,_ but the park was empty enough for a private conversation. It was late at night, all the lamps it and bathing the street in their eerie yellow glow. Crickets chirped the closer they came to the gardens, irritating Deryn in her state of tension.

 

The further away they walked from prying eyes the more nervous Deryn became, until it finally bubbled out of her.

 

“Look, Alek-“

 

“ _Please,_ ” he interrupted her, “I’m sorry but…I’ve been thinking of what to say for a long time and I’d like to say it first, before anything else. Will you listen?”

 

There was probably more that Deryn could do but open and close her mouth, but that’s all she could manage before a short nod and a cough.

 

“Aye, you go first then.” She said, her voice low and gruff like when pretending to be a boy.

 

Alek took a deep breath, composing his thoughts before he began.

 

“I have decided I wish to be an adult, about all this,” He said, “Which is to say- originally I had wanted to ask you to leave the ship, I would have said _anything_ to make you stay here with me, so with that in mind I want you to forget what I wrote-“

 

“I didn’t get a chance to read your letters yet.”

 

Those words stopped Alek in his carefully articulated tracks, as he stared at her in bafflement. A look of hurt broke through his resolve for a moment, and it stung. Deryn realized that she would have preferred him yelling. Anything but _this._

 

“You didn’t?”

 

A million lies bubbled to the forefront of her mind, but she pushed them all away. No secrets, that was the only promise she could still keep. She owed him this much.

 

“I thought....” she growled and rubbed the back of her head, “I put it off. I was… _scared_.”

 

And that was the word for it wasn’t it? Deryn Sharp, a solider who had lived through battle after battle and stared death in the face more times then she cared to name, was afraid of reading a letter that might hurt her feelings. Something strange flashed in Alek’s eyes, and Deryn found herself _hoping_ it was anger. Some daft part of her wished that he’d just start punching so she could punch back. It would have been _easier_ that way, to hate each other for petty stupid hurts so neither of them had to accept the fact that this was just _life._ That sometimes this happened, you missed a chance to fix something and lose it for no good reason at all.

 

“I see,” Alek said shakily, “Don’t read them, then. What I wanted to say was I’ve decided to be an- I said that already though. I said in the letter- _no._ What I’m trying to…”

 

He brought a hand to his head as whatever he had rehearsed fell apart in his mouth. More then anything Deryn just wanted to _embrace_ him, to hold his shoulders and smile patiently until the words came out. But that was the mess they were in now. The time had finally come where one had fallen and the other _couldn’t_ pick them up.

 

“Can I start over? Please I…” he took a deep breath, his princely training taking over, “I understand. That is what I’m trying to say. It was madness, hearing about you being blown off course and attacked. But when I read about how you saved your ship and knew that _this_ was what you were supposed to be. You were always meant to fly, and now providence has finally given you a chance to do so. I would be mad to take that away from you.”

 

Deryn nodded, though she grit her teeth at the word ‘providence’. Whenever he was afraid or down the boy always latched onto the concept of destiny, that everyone is born with a plan that falls into place as neat as a jigsaw. But even if there were such a thing as destiny, that wouldn’t be how it worked. When Deryn was born it was her destiny to wear corsets and skirts, when her Da died it was to escape her mother and serve aboard the _Leviathan._ When she met Alek it had been to help him end the war, when he had learned her secret it had been to love him.

 

Destiny changes _,_ everything always _changes_ , doors opening and closing not caring if you get through in time. And now with the _Mazikeen_ Deryn’s so-called destiny was changing again, a perfect, impossible door had opened and Deryn would be mad to ignore it. But she couldn’t explain all that to Alek, the boy wouldn’t believe her. He couldn’t just stamp his foot and say that sometimes life was unfair. If he didn’t have a _reason_ for bad things to happen he’d only sink further into despair.

 

“Thank you,” was what Deryn finally said, and wanted to add more but didn’t know what else there _was_ to say.

 

“You’re important to me, whether you’re here or a thousand miles away,” Alek said, “And I hope that you can forgive me for forgetting that.”

 

“That’s alright,” she said, “I was hardly _diplomatic_ myself.”

 

Now was the time to smile, so they both did dutifully. The fist around Deryn’s heart loosened, relief that she and her best friend finally were on the same page.

 

“I’ll support you, of course,” He went on to say, “And when you’re here, would it be alright if we…?”

 

Deryn was just about ready to fling her arms around him right here in public. But upon meeting his eyes again she froze, the relief slipping away.

 

He looked so… _sad._

 

Even as he smiled at her the sadness was just as intense as when they first met, threatening to spill out if he lost his hold of it even for a moment. It had been months since she saw such sadness in his eyes, and now it was all brought back because of _her_.

 

It wasn’t fair to make him wait. Soldiers always had girls at home but those girls weren’t Alek. He’d need more then just a letter every month or so, or a few short visits a year. Alek needed something to stay with him, to hold onto and fill all the holes left by everything he’s lost. And Deryn couldn’t give him that anymore, all she could do was stop him from finding it in someone else. A sob built in Deryns throat, random and uncalled for. Almost as if she was preparing herself for the inevitable.

 

“I don’t…” she began, watching as the hope died away, “I think it’s best if we just both… _move on_.”

 

“Ah,” Alek said, “I see.”

 

There were no words between them for a while. Only the sounds of message lizards scampering across ratlines and a bobbie dog howling in the distance. It was early spring, everything so warm and pulsing with life, but here between them it had all grown cold and deadly.

 

“Do _you_ think that’s best?” Deryn asked, daring to hope that maybe she was wrong, maybe she really _could_ have everything she wanted.

 

“I was thinking something similar,” Alek said with a sad smile, “That is more… _practical._ ”

 

Deryn nodded, staring at the cobblestones.

 

“We should return to your celebration,” Alek said, “You will be missed, by now.”

 

He offered his arm and Deryn almost didn’t take it, wanting to _hang_ the barking party and just find a dark corner to mope. But as he said, this was just what was practical. They didn’t speak to each other again the entire way back, and when Deryn made her way to Oliver she saw that Roger and Rolly had joined him. Deryn broke away from Alek, who bowed and bid her a safe journey. Deryn managed to get out a promise to write, which earned her a smile at least.

 

Oliver practically leapt up to meet Deryn when he saw her, babbling too quickly in that thick accent of his to be understood.

 

“You know what he’s on about?” Roland asked, “Something about a director?”

 

Deryn only shrugged and took a glass of Champaign from a passing server.

 

“She was just talking with Mr. Hohenberg!” Oliver finally managed, practically bounding on the balls of his feet.

 

“What, isn’t he just a Clanker Director?” Roger asked with a raised brow.

 

Oliver snorted out his disappointment and shook his head.

 

“No you _idiots,_ ” he said, “Mr. Hohenberg is the _prince!_ From the _Leviathan,_ Prince Aleksander Ferdinand of Hohenberg!”

 

Roland just snorted out a laugh, but Roger fixed Deryn with an astonished gaze. She knew he was piecing it together, and saw as he mouthed the name  under his breath. Deryn scowled and looked away, taking an irritated sip from her glass. Alek was disappearing into the crowd now, far enough away that he braved one final look back at her. Their eyes met by accident, he no longer made an effort to hide the sadness or she to mask her longing. And even from this distance, Deryn knew that daft look of hope when she saw it.

 

“You lot were a rubbish barricade,” she mumbled.

 

* * *

 

 

The next couple of weeks passed like a hurricane, Deryn constantly dolled up and propped before cameras. The suit she had worn to that first Gala was on the front page of every fashion magazine, apparently the designer who created it was gathering renown for dressing such a celebrity. Now all the important ladies of Europe wanted something similar, and a few of them were even cropping their hair to the awkward mid chin length that Deryn sported.

 

Overall Deryn was managing the attention well, playing the presses like she might a fiddle. Whenever the time came to smile or say something particularly plucky she did so, and the whole room would chortle. On the ground she was nothing more than a pet airgirl, but Deryn was realizing that didn’t matter. In the air she was who she was, and if the price to pay was a few photographs with Pearl White Deryn could manage.

 

Of course, having Alek back in her life made things a lot more tolerable.

 

Deryn had been seeing a lot of him between interviews and galas, so much so that Roger made a joke of being jealous. Roger was the only one who knew about their history, and also knew that they had decided _not_ to resume their romance. When Deryn had told him that second bit perplexed him momentarily, but he didn't care to explain why.

 

Which was understandable, perhaps _normal_ people would have a hard time being friends with someone they used to shag, but Deryn liked to think she and Alek were beyond that. They had fallen back into the same easy friendship they enjoyed on the _Leviathan,_ all the bothersome longing for something more safely hidden between Deryn’s ears where it could fade away over time. There was an agreement there. Don’t ask, don’t tell, and someday it wont be there at all.

 

So by the time the launching party rolled around again Deryn assured the others that the barricade wouldn’t be necessary The dinner and speeches were just as droll as they always were, even when Robert passed around the flask to make things go easier. Deryn ignored the helping hand this time, seeing how it turned out previously.

 

By the time everyone had given their self important words Roger was half asleep, Roland was balancing a dessert fork on his lips, Jack had sculpted a face out of shredded wet lumps of paper napkin, and Oliver looked excited enough to faint. The boy was practically jumping in of his seat during the entire affair, hoping to have a real conversation with the ex-prince once all the pleasantries were done.

 

Once the murmurs of general conversation started up again, Deryn and Oliver excused themselves. To Deryn’s surprise Jack rose to follow them as well. Wherever Jack went Roger usually followed, and by now all of them were up so Roland might as well come along too.

 

Poor Alek was a bit overwhelmed to meet all of them at once, but he acted perfectly princely regardless. When Oliver pelted him with questions he answered patiently, when Jack conversationally asked if he knew about botfly removals, Alek didn’t even shudder. Roland and Roger kept a wary distance, but when the time came to give their names they were polite enough. When Oliver was done idolizing over him the Cadets were called away, only Deryn stayed behind for a final word.

 

“When does your ship take off?” he asked.

 

“At dawn, but I wouldn’t come see us off. With all the reporters it seems like the airfield will be barking _packed._ ”

 

Alek looked as though he wanted to say something to this, but shook his head.

 

“Perhaps so,” he admitted, “You’ll actually read my letters, wont you?”

 

Deryn smiled sheepishly and nodded, “Course I will, you daftie.”

 

There was a bit of a silence then as Alek watched the other Cadets shove each other on the way out.

 

“Your crew is…”

 

“Weird.” Deryn finished for him, “The word’s weird Alek you can say it if you want.”

 

* * *

 

 

It occurred to Deryn that she never initiated.

 

Even all the way back in the beginning, it was always Alek who made every stride forward. This wasn’t because she was _afraid_ mind, or at least thats what she told herself. When he learned her secret she’d given him the time he needed to be angry, when he learned the other one she waited for him to reciprocate. But now none of that mattered, did it? Neither of them were angry with each other, and had both agreed to ignore any lingering remnants of the other thing. It just so happened that it was Alek who went out of his way to meet with her when she had been in town, so now it was only natural to seek him out once she was back.

 

She’d been answering all of his letters of course. The bottom drawer where she kept the first two was now also occupied by the ones she had saved. If Roger had anything to say about the short chuckles and snorts she emitted while reading them every week, he kept it to himself. Everything was just as it should be now, with her career, with Alek, everything.

 

So now as Deryn stepped onto the omnibus back to London, she decided that maybe she _wouldn’t_ head back to the usual hotel first thing. The ride was almost painfully long as giddiness rose in her throat. Stubbornly she told that giddiness to get stuffed, this was nothing more then her dropping by the society headquarters to pay everyone who had given her such a great opportunity a visit. If a certain director happened to be there, it would be a lucky thing wouldn't it?

 

When Alek saw her stride through the doors as if she owned the place, the initial reaction was shock. Deryn froze in front of his desk as he stared, before an awkward gin tugged at her lips.

 

“What, no hello?” she asked, hands on hips, “Not very polite, Mr. Hohenberg.”

 

His bafflement only lasted a moment, soon a smile spread across his face as he leapt up from the desk to greet her.

 

“You didn’t say you’d be returning to London,” he said, “I would have come to greet you.”

 

Deryn shrugged and shook his outstretched hand. That was the extent of the affection they had unspokenly agreed upon, hugging felt too intimate and kisses were out of the question.

 

“I’m only dropping by for a bit,” she said, “I’m in town for just a few days, but thought I’d come tell you in person before heading to the hotel.”

 

Alek seemed to have something he wanted to say, but stopped himself.

 

“What is it?” Deryn asked, brow twitching into a frown.

 

“Nothing,” Alek said, shaking his head, “Its just good to see you, Deryn.”

 

There was probably more to that, but Deryn felt this fell under the new ‘don’t ask don’t tell’ rule.

 

“Aye, you too,” she said, “Even if its only for a few days.”

 

Again Alek nodded, like the hinges of his neck were loose. Still, that didn’t stop him from smiling, “Let me finish up here, I could take you out. As I recall from a particularly strong worded letter of yours, the food aboard the _Mazikeen_ is rather lacking.”

 

“Don’t want to be a bother,” Deryn brought up both hands as a light blush tinted her cheeks, “Don’t make a fuss for me!”

 

Alek circled back to sit at his desk, “Its hardly a bother, Miss Sharp,” He insisted, “Just wait a moment, I’ll be finished soon.”

 

Deryn nodded and sunk into the fabricated chair across from his desk, studying the name plate which sat on the edge.

 

“Got your own barking office now,” Deryn asked casually, “Are they actually putting your royal tutoring to use?”

 

“Hardly,” Alek said with a snort, “But I have been assisting with some negotiations. Most of my work revolves around researching German patents.”

 

Deryn frowned. That didn’t sound like the sort of thing a director would get up to, nor did it seem particularly interesting.

 

“I suppose you’re just as much a _novelty_ as me,” she admitted after a while.

 

This made Alek chuckle. “I suppose I am.”

 

“A Clanker Prince working for Darwinists, and a girl serving aboard an airship,” Deryn went on, “We make an _odd_ pair.”

 

The words were out before Deryn could stop them, and they hung awkwardly in the air. Even as Deryn looked determinately at the floor, she could tell that Alek’s attention snapped up from his paperwork. There was a silence then, before Alek cleared his throat.

 

“Its a bit strange, hearing other people use your real name.”

 

Deryn was glad for the change of subject, almost too relieved as she responded, “How’dyou mean?”

 

“I was the only person who ever called you Deryn before,” he explained, “Its odd to think you’re serving aboard a ship where everyone calls you it every day.”

 

“Well that’s not exactly true,” Deryn said, rubbing her neck, “They all call me P-Boy.”

 

That caught him off guard.

 

“Pee…Boy?” he asked slowly, baffled.

 

Deryn rolled her eyes, “It’s a stupid nickname. It stands for ‘Pretty Boy,’ because a Russian ground man thought I was just a prissy lad.”

 

Alek snorted out a laugh, which Deryn joined in. “Aye, but the irony is lost on them I’m afraid.”

 

Shaking his head Alek put down his pen.

 

“You used to give me nicknames as well,” he said with a soft smile.

 

“Aye, I had a few,” Deryn chuckled, “Even though you’re not very princely anymore.”

 

Alek nodded at this, his tongue sliding over his lips. He seemed to realize around the same time she did that there was no point trying to get back to work. He rose from behind his desk to come sit nearer to her.

 

“I don’t mind,” he said, almost shyly, “I actually rather liked it.”

 

Crackling races across Deryn’s skin, she tried her best to ignore it, “Aye, I’m sure you do.”

 

One last silence passed between them, just looking at each other as the same daft idea came to both of their minds at once.

 

Alek’s lips were soft but firm against hers as what might have been intended to be sweet and satisfying quickly became intense and desperate. With one hand he pinned her body to his while the other hurriedly cleared a space for her on the desk and yanked at his belt buckle. What followed could only be classified as a mistake _,_ even though there was nothing mistakable in the ferocity of her grip or the way he murmured her name like a prayer. And for those few glorious moments it felt as if nothing had changed at all, that everything was just how it should be. But glorious moments have to pass, and the time comes when two people are forced to return to reality.

 

The feeling that permeated the room once they were done was hard to name. It certainly wasn’t _surprise,_ they wouldn’t have gone as far as they did without knowing what they were doing. It wasn’t regret either, nor was it satisfaction, exactly. There was a sense that one of them _should_ have said something along the lines of, ‘we should stop’ or ‘this is a terrible idea’, but neither wanted to be the one to do it. So it had happened, and nothing either of them said or did after the fact could change that. All Deryn could do was try to smooth her clothes as she made a hasty retreat, leaving a disheveled Alek in his chair with his head in his hands.

 

The remnants of what had happened lingered in Deryn’s body the entire cab ride to the hotel, but by morning she wasn’t sore at all. Then she was back aboard the _Mazikeen_ , and would be forgiven for assuming nothing had happened at all. As usual, however, her body wasn’t the issue. As usual, it was her daft attic that gave it away. Deryn struggled to keep from thinking about it, but late at night the memories crept to the forefront of her mind. She found herself wondering if Alek was thinking about her too, and didn’t know if the giddiness was worth the dread.

 

But that’s what she got for initiating, she supposed.

 

* * *

  

There were more letters after that. Deryn’s drawer was getting harder to close.

 

* * *

 

 

“Will you be needing another barricade?”

 

Much to Deryn’s surprise it was Roland who asked, not Roger, as they tossed rats to the strafing hawks in the newly installed rookery.

 

“Why would I?” Deryn asked, putting down her sack of frozen rodents to stare at him.

 

The boy shrugged and unstuck two of the little buggers that had been frozen together, accidentally ripping off one of their wee legs.

 

“Roger says something happened, between you and your ex. But he doesn’t want to bring it up himself, he’s worried you’d get offended.”

 

“Nothing happened,” she said gruffly, “And you all are rotten at keeping him away anyway.”

 

Roland shrugged again, “Its hard telling a prince what to do, even an ex prince.”

 

He frowned when she gaped at him, “What, was that supposed to be a secret?”

 

Deryn shook her head, “No, I just didn’t think Roger would tell anyone.”

 

That got a laugh out of Roland, who shook his head. “Don’t need to be told, I’ve got _eyes_ P-Boy.”

 

Noticing her expression he sighed and went on. “I look at a lot of girls, Deryn. I can tell when another man’s looking too.”

 

Deryn cocked a brow at this, “Does that mean that you were looking at me?”

 

“It means you make an excellent argument for women to wear trousers,” Roland said without a lick of humility, “And that tight skirt you wear to the parties, too.”

 

Deryn rolled her eyes and punched his shoulder. Even though it wasn’t hard, Roland flinched back.

 

“And _that_ is why I content myself with looking,” he grumbled, rubbing the sore spot.

 

Snatching up the feedbag, Deryn went back to tossing rats. “So you think I should avoid him, then?”

 

“That would definitely be in _my_ best interest,” Roland said sheepishly, “As for yours, depends. Apparently some people prefer to keep it exclusive.”

 

That was true enough, Deryn supposed.

 

“That being said,” Roland continued, “I can tell for sure that _he_ prefers to keep it exclusive, and when one person wants more than a buggering things get sour fast.”

 

It wasn’t worth asking how Roland knew that bit too, she had a feeling the answer would only dampen her mood further. It was only a few days until they’d be back in London again, their latest mission to Australia a renowned success. It would be easy to lose him in the crowds that would doubtless envelop the entire crew, but Roland was right. They had ended their relationship because it hadn’t been fair to him. Just letting something like _that_ fester was even more unfair.

 

“You know you’re the _last_ person I’d imagine getting decent advice from,” Deryn told him.

 

Roland chewed his bottom lip as he closed up the cages. “I’m just peeved that you get all the ‘heartbreaker’ credit when I’m so much better at it.”

 

Deryn spent the next two days trying to work up what she’d say. ‘Sorry for running off after we shagged on your desk,’ didn’t seem like it would exactly cover it. In a way the actual sex had only been the tip of the iceberg. This whole ordeal was a great big pear-shaped mess. It was mad to think that rejecting him would somehow protect him from being lonely, that he’d just find another lass while she was away. Nothing she did could take back him throwing his scroll into the ocean, and running away for his sake was childish.

 

It had been a full year since the _Mazikeen_ lifted off for its maiden voyage, and not a day had gone by when she didn’t think about him.

 

The omnibus into London would drive Deryn completely mad, sitting in the car will all that soldierly blather babbling inside her. Luckily, however, Alek was kind enough to spare her of that.

 

There he was the moment she stepped off, waiting outside the station with a cigarette. When he saw her he dropped and stomped it against the snow, eyes wide as he made her way towards her.

 

“I didn’t…” His voice cracked right off and he coughed into a fist, “I thought I’d have to catch you here, that you wouldn't want to come to me.”

 

There was a joke to be made there, but Deryn didn’t think now was the time. Maybe later, if there _was_ a later.

 

“Give me a _little_ credit,” She said, “I’ve missed you too.”

 

Now was the time for tearful reunion Deryn should think. All the confusion and hurt that had built up these past months coming out in an explosion of weeping and noise, but instead she only smiled. When Alek saw that, his worry seemed to fade away as well.

 

“You aren’t angry with me?” he asked still cautious, “After what I-“

 

“Well we both did it you daft prince,” Deryn said, arching a brow, “You think I couldn’t have pushed you off?”

 

Alek blushed and looked about, aware of the passers by in perfect earshot.

 

“Perhaps we should continue this conversation somewhere more private?” he suggested, though he couldn’t keep his own smile from his face.

 

Deryn closed the distance between them and took his hands.

 

“There’s better things we can do in private, your princeliness,” she leaned in close to kiss him, sending a warm and satisfying shockwave through her body that erased the cold, “But you’re right. Lets go home.”


End file.
